


Moving On; Forever Regrets

by ProPinkist



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Depending on your perspective, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I changed the layout of the castle because reasons shhhhh, I do this, Vomiting, just when I think I couldn't write something any worse, slight AU maybe, welp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProPinkist/pseuds/ProPinkist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killua takes care of something before heading out to save Gon, trying to put some things to rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On; Forever Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo yeah. This happened. To be honest, I'm very miffed with how Killua's character was written in the chimera ant arc, and how his attachment to Kite that was /very/ obvious in the first ten episodes of the arc was completely retconned in the rest of the arc so that Gon's obsession with saving him can seem "unreasonable." Dx This is my attempt at trying to make Killua more sympathetic again after the CA arc, when all he seems to demonstrate during most of the arc itself is jealously, which just... again, I don't like it lol. Not sure I did very well though. *sigh* ...But Killua loved Kite too, gdi, and I will stand by that. :'( 3 This could either be in canon where Kite is reborn, or in a universe where he doesn't; I really haven't decided myself.

He didn’t want to be here. And yet, he knew he needed to be.

Killua stood outside the old, abandoned castle for the third time (it was one too many times… although, even just _once_ was too many). The first time felt like years ago at this point, although the events of that “visit” were no less vivid in his mind, oh no. The second time had been just a mere two days ago.

And now, he was back again.

Knowing that every second he wasted here not moving forward was time he couldn’t afford to lose, Killua pushed himself down the stone walkway leading to the entrance. He had purposefully gone out of his way, walking a wide circle around the perimeter, so that he didn’t have to encounter that specific area of the woods surrounding the castle where the most recent… events had taken place ( _you should have done it; you don’t have a right to run away from the reminders of what_ you _caused_ ).

When he pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, he was greeted by a blast of cold air.

That was what had first struck him about this place the first time they had come, he thought to himself: the cold. This place must have been well kept at some point in the past; traces of its former glory still showed in the main rooms. Golden walls, marble floor, statues, candles; someone quite rich must have lived here. Now, however, it more resembled a dungeon rather than an estate, the darkness being quite prominent and the candlelight not doing much to help, and the only “occupant” here now was definitely not what most people would consider rich… not that that mattered (except, maybe it _would_ have… the thought threated to make him sick if he pondered on it for too long).

The draft, darkness, and irritating dust hadn’t bothered him the last time he had been inside, but for some reason, when he was completely alone, it was all he noticed.

Despite knowing he needed to hurry and complete his task here, Killua walked forward slowly and purposefully. He felt like he was in a trance, as if forcing himself to continue to his destination while his mind hadn’t completely caught up with the notion of what he was doing, where he was going, what he was going there to _do,_ why he had to _do it._

_Second floor, the door on the right, then the door at the end of the hallway._ The directions played over and over again in his head, from when Gon had said it two days ago. He was grateful he knew exactly where to go, and also not.

_Second floor, door on the right, door at the end of the hallway… second floor, right door, the end of the hallway… second floor, the right, then the end –_

He was there before he knew it, despite how much he had dragged it out.

The door opened. Wind blew in his face again, and with it came the faint smell of sweat, an even fainter smell of blood, and a third stench that was the most faint of all, and yet he knew _exactly_ what it was; he had smelled that smell so many times that it was impossible _not_ to know –

Killua bent forward, one hand gripping the doorframe and the other on his knee as he panted heavily. He felt tired, even though he had no reason to be, and all he wanted to do was to run far away, so very far away, until this place was no longer in view ever again.

But he _couldn’t._

He stood there for a long as he needed, trying to calm his breathing and relax, not wanting to waste time but knowing that he couldn’t afford to falter in this. He could do this; he had been an assassin, for Pete’s sake; this wouldn’t be any different from any other of those situations he had encountered ( _this_ is _different and you know it; don’t you dare even_ pretend _that it’s the same)_. He just had to get in, do this, and leave the premises. Then he could focus on his real mission. Simple.

Without hesitating a moment longer, Killua stood straight again, and marched into the room, walking straight forward to his target. Upon reaching said person, he crouched down and extended his hands to reach them. The first touch, he felt himself waver, but he bit his lip hard and that helped ground him. After a bit of a struggle to reach his short arms around the person’s shoulders, he slowly flipped them over from their position face down on the floor in preparation to pull them onto his back.

_See, you can do this. This isn’t so hard, right? Just the usual routine from before. Always dispose of the body after the job is done. You may not do it anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten how. It’s simple: just don’t think and –_

Hair fell away during the transition, hanging limply on the cold floor and exposing the man’s face.

Killua just barely managed to fling himself away to one corner of the room before he retched, curling in on himself as he emptied everything he had last eaten onto the floor (not that that was much; he hadn’t felt like eating much of anything recently). Great, heaving and gasping sobs escaped from him, and his palms screamed as they skidded on the floor in his struggle to keep himself from collapsing entirely.

Memories flooded his mind, unbidden.

That fateful day, when they landed in a mystical place with fog and cherry blossoms dancing in the wind. And the man there, who was tall and cloaked and mysterious; and yet when he saw Gon, all of the tension melted away, and the serious and strange persona he had had at first was suddenly replaced by a loving familiarity and a kind smile. He had never met him before, but he felt at home immediately, as he did with Gon.

Memories of exploring new places, learning new things, and meeting new people, with him and his mentees. Entering the strange and unnerving country to take on the dangerous job of hunting down those deadly creatures. Him encouraging them to improve their abilities, but always protecting them as well with firm but well-meaning words and actions. His strength was immense.

Except when it wasn’t.

His order to run, and then that single moment of hesitation that had determined everything in the blink of an eye. A scream. Blood flying, as well as something else that should never, _ever_ be flying through the air by itself. His own choice to run. Being praised by his choice; the only time he had ever hated getting praised in all his life.

And then weeks later, being here. Knowing that it was too good to be true, but clinging onto that tiny spark of _hope_ for Gon’s ( _and your own too; don’t lie_ ) sake. Reality crashing down upon seeing the sight: the movements and the scars and the dried blood and the _face, oh god the face_ , and his best friend in the world having so much love and courage and optimism in his heart that he allowed himself to take the punishment, both physically and emotionally. And him not having any courage to do anything to help… he had been too scared, too heartbroken, too furious, too _blind_ , too _stupid._

And now look what it had led to. Because of him doing _nothing._

_“Good choice, Killua.”_

_Don’t you dare say that to me, Kite; not you of all people…!!_

The reality that he knew to be true deep down hit him like a ton of bricks: this was not comparable to when he had still been an assassin. This was tragically, sickeningly, horrifyingly, _extremely_ different; so different it was laughable. The fact that he ever thought it _could_ be the same was even more laughable. It was strong denial, granted, but still.

After what felt like ages, Killua stood up, swaying a little on his feet. His stomach hurt, his eyes were bloodshot, and he still felt a bit dizzy. But he couldn’t lay here and pity himself any longer: not with the other person in the room. It was wrong to disrespect him in such a manner.

He walked back over to the limp person on the floor (he refused to think of him as anything but a person). Kite had fallen face down again after he had dropped him, his hair splayed out around his head in swirling patterns. He was completely still, just as he had been before: no sign of any breaths or life at all.

Killua sniffed loudly, staring up at the ceiling. After steeling himself as best as was humanly possible, he crouched back down again. He pulled Kite onto his back, gently, ever so gently, even though it mostly consisted of him holding Kite’s arms, and the rest of his lanky body dragging behind him, like one would drag a kid’s sled. The whole time, he forced himself to not look away, to not even blink. It would be impossible for any other child his age, with how extraordinarily tall and heavy Kite was, but he managed easily. Too easily.

There was a noticeable, unidentified popping sound as he maneuvered him into position. Killua tried not to assume what it could be, tried not to cry again.

“…I’m so sorry, but this is the only way I can do this. I-I hope I’m not hurting you…”

He slowly made his way out of the room, the cold weight on his back burdening him immensely. He had done things that required more strength than this in the past, he knew, but nothing had felt heavier than what he was carrying now.

Actually, that was wrong. Gon had felt heavier.

Eventually, Killua stood in front of the stairs, his heart sinking rapidly. He stared down the long flight, wondering how on earth he was going to do this. It was hilariously ironic, really, to think that after everything he had faced up until now, he considered these stairs on his list of most terrifying adversaries.

Killua turned his head slightly, stiffening as Kite’s face began to come into view.

“…D-Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

He hesitantly put one foot down on the first step, and then the other. Then the next step. Then the next. Although he was anticipating it, the loud smack of Kite’s shoes hitting the step behind him and the ensuing inertia from it nearly sent him careening forward, and Killua struggled to keep his balance. Some of Kite’s hair flew forward, the greasy, seaweed-esque strings caressing the side of his face, and he choked back a scream.

_I can’t let him go. No matter what, I absolutely cannot let him go._

Killua tightened his grip, praying with all his might that he wouldn’t end up at the bottom of the stairs holding nothing but two arms ( _don’t THINK LIKE THAT_ ). It took him a few minutes to realize that he had exposed his claws in using all his arm and hand strength, and he quickly retracted them, swallowing thickly. If actual blood had come out of the tiny stab wounds they had created, he would have noticed much sooner. But this was natural for a corpse. In any other situation, it wouldn’t have bothered him, but of course nothing was normal here.

When he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Killua sank down, breathing heavily. His whole body was shaking from the effort, and he still had a bad taste in his mouth even after having vomited upstairs. But even in his exhaustion, he never let go of the one he was carrying.

“…A-Almost there, Kite,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Almost there…”

The trip to the front door of the castle was simple compared to the previous leg of the journey, and he was there before he knew it. Upon arriving, Killua slowly lowered Kite to the ground again, and turned him over onto his back again. He bit his lip, staring down at all the bloody scars and stitches covering his upper body, and after hesitating for a moment more, Killua pulled off his outermost shirt, laying it over Kite’s torso. It was too small to cover all of him, of course, but it helped somewhat. He made a mental note to burn the shirt after this was all over, as well as the rest of what he was wearing now; he had at least a passing likeness for this outfit, but something like that hardly mattered anymore. It, at least, could be replaced.

“Stay here,” Killua murmured quietly, as if talking to a child younger than him. “I have something to do outside… then I’ll be back f-for you.”

Without allowing himself to dawdle any longer, Killua exited the castle, the sudden return of sunlight almost blinding him. He was grateful for it, though, so grateful.

He made his way into a spot of the woods he had previously picked out; it was a nice little clearing, a good distance away from the building. Killua knew that the further away the spot, the more he would have to carry his charge, but he wanted it to be perfect… at least, as perfect a place as was possible out here.

Killua knew that if he had asked for help with this, one of the adults would have probably agreed. That way, he wouldn’t have had to drag poor Kite around like this, and he wouldn’t have had to settle for an area in the middle of these woods, near the place where all of their worst nightmares came true.

…But some part of him wanted to do this on his own. Knuckle and Shoot had “rescued” Kite from NGL, and for that, he was thankful… but he didn’t want anyone else involved anymore. They didn’t care, he had come to realize, at least not about the things that really mattered. Gon wasn’t able to do this (even if he was, he wouldn’t want him to, not in a million years), so it fell to him. There was no one else besides himself that Killua wanted doing this, no one else who knew Kite, knew what it was like to have to watch someone you so deeply respected and even loved be horribly mutilated and made to suffer in such a horrible and heartbreaking manner. Gon had so many friends he had met along his journey who Killua knew were fretting over and praying for him right now, for which he was glad. …But Kite had no one but him.

_That’s a lie and you damn well know it: there are six people out there who care about the dead person in that building even more than you do, who are waiting to reunite with him, who still don’t know the news that will have to be broken to them soon, people who would most definitely want to be here, doing this, right now. But you’re doing this alone in an attempt to atone for letting everything happen; that’s all this is: a selfish desire to make up for all that your lack of action caused. By doing this alone, you’re causing yourself more trouble than it’s worth AND degrading him even more than he already has been. But this is all about your guilt, of course: you’re the reason those people you called your “friends” will have to mourn for their loved one, you’re the reason Gon will have to as well, you’re the reason Gon might not even –_

Killua jerked himself out of his thoughts, grabbing the shovel he had planted here when he first came. His eyes were blurry, however, and it was hard to see where to dig.

 

* * *

 

After what felt like years later, Killua had come back to the forest clearing with Kite.

He was running on pure adrenaline by this point; his arms were on fire, he was filthy, and if he allowed his mind to run away with his thoughts any more, he wouldn’t have been able to keep going. He had continued talking as he trekked through the woods, telling Kite how much farther it was and apologizing for hurting him, but he barely recognized his own voice. It was late in the day now, and with the canopy of trees, it was even darker inside the forest; a few times his feet had hit a stray rock or tree root, and it was only through sheer willpower that he just barely managed to keep himself upright, tears stinging his eyes.

It was the saddest image in the world, Killua knew, for so many different reasons.

“…W-We’re here, finally…”

Robotically, he let Kite down once again, and began picking all of the stray leaves and twigs off of his body and out of his hair without even thinking about what he was doing. He was doing this absentmindedly, like one would pull lint off of clothing, when he heard something.

It was a soft chittering sound, and Killua raised his head slowly, still in a daze. There, sitting on Kite’s side opposite himself, was a chipmunk. It was near Kite’s arm, and it seemed to be examining the foreign object interestedly (which was a ludicrous idea, considering that any sane animal would stay far away from the increasingly worsening stench). In any other situation, he would have noted how cute it was, but that was the absolute last thing on Killua’s mind now.

“G-Go away!” His voice was hoarse, and he swallowed, trying to make it stronger again. “Get out!”

The chipmunk, against all logic, noticed him but didn’t budge.

_“Get out of here!”_ Killua screamed, standing up rapidly and coming around, flailing his arms in a shooing motion. He was crying. _“GET AWAY FROM HIM!!!”_

Finally, the chipmunk scurried off into the bushes with a sad, final squeak, never to be seen again.

Killua collapsed into the grass, his energy completely drained. He folded over on himself, clinging to Kite’s shoes, which were barely staying together by this point, on top of smelling horrible.

“P-Please…” he whispered weakly. “Come back… Yell at me for threatening an innocent creature for no reason… scold me for coming here by myself when it’s dangerous… y-yell at me for not p-protecting G-Gon… _please, just say something!! ANYTHING!!”_

He gazed at the spot the chipmunk had disappeared into, his vision blurry.

“Maybe… you were just sad, too… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it…”

 

* * *

 

Eventually, the ridiculously long hole was filled, and Kite was nowhere to be seen. He’d had to take several breaks during the arduous process, due to tiredness that was half from physical exertion and half all in his head.

Killua stood at the foot of the makeshift grave, staring at it numbly. He’d put a stick at the top just for now, so that they’d be able to find it again later, but he doubted it was really necessary. He’d never forget this location even if he tried.

“…Kite,” he finally began, knowing that nothing he could say would be enough, but knowing he had to say _something._

“I’m glad… Gon knew you.” His voice was devoid of emotion, and he couldn’t muster any energy to make it stronger. “…He might say it would have been better if he hadn’t… but I don’t believe that. Despite everything, I’m glad he knew you… glad he had you… e-even if only for a short time… i-if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have – “

Killua stopped, inhaling sharply and clenching his fists.

_You’re making it all about_ yourself _again. That’s all you’re able to do, isn’t it?_

“No… if it wasn’t for you… Gon wouldn’t have met all the people he did. S-Some good, some bad… lots of danger… but it was all just part of one big, fun adventure to help his friends, to him. T-That’s just who he is, you know? … Always wanting to help those who are suffering, always putting himself s-second, doing everything that’s physically possible for him… e-even if…”

His voice had been rising as he went on, and he put the back of his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a sob. He rarely ever cried; this was so unlike him… and yet this entire day, he had been unable to hold back tears on and off.

“He… H-He loved you, you know. Loves. He’s looking for his father… but I think he already had one that suited him just fine. He just hasn’t realized it yet… and now it’s _too late!”_

Yet more sobs racked his small frame, and he couldn’t stop them from coming anymore. “He sacrificed _everything_ for you… so much… all for you, Kite… a-and I should have been there to help him! Because I… I-I… you were important to me, too.”

He sniffed loudly, hating how vulnerable he felt, and hating who he was displaying it in front of.

“I should have been there… I should have helped him get his revenge. Because it’s my revenge too. I should have killed that thing that did this to you with him… all our anger, all our despair… for you, we should have destroyed her together. B-But I…! I did _nothing!!_ He was so sure, so _certain_ that you were still alive, and I… I was too weak to crush his hopes!

“I chose to believe in him… in that unfailing optimism of his… and think that maybe, _somehow_ , he was right. But… if I’d known what would happen, I would have told him… even if it killed him to hear… But instead, I said nothing. Did nothing. They found you, and we went to see you, a-and… the way you _looked_ , what that monster _did_ to you, Kite, I-I…!”

Killua bit his lip so hard he tasted blood upon remembering the sight. He had seen him today, but back then, _moving_ like that… had somehow been a hundred times worse.

“That… That was my last chance to save him. But I didn’t. I let my heartbreak, disgust, horror, fear, and anger overtake me… and I just shut down. Ran away. Like I always do.” Killua laughed brokenly, tears still coming. “He was… he was in so much _pain_ over you, as was I… but even I didn’t realize how much we both were until it was too late. Much, much too late.”

His entire body ached, and he wanted to do nothing more than to lay down and sleep here, forever and ever and ever, and forget that this was the reality he now faced. But even if it _wasn’t_ wrong to do that, it still wouldn’t do any good: as soon as he woke up and realized where he was, everything would come flooding back. What had happened, that could never, ever be undone, no matter how much he wished it with all his heart.

“If… If we hadn’t gone with you on that specific mission, you wouldn’t have been caught off-guard and might not have lost your life. If I’d had the courage to tell Gon, he wouldn’t have had to bear that alone… and I could have avenged you with him, like I should have. And if I’d done that, h-he… he wouldn’t…”

Killua closed his eyes weakly, trying to calm down.

“…Kite,” he whispered. “I will save Gon. I know… I don’t have any right to ask you to believe me, after all my mistakes… after failing both of you so badly.” The image of Gon hugging Kite’s broken body entered his mind for the hundredth time, and Killua let out a little moan. “…I won’t let him go to you yet. Not until he’s old and grey. I-I have to be selfish once again… there are people in the living world who love him still. We need him…” _say it, say what you really mean._ “…I-I need him.”

When Gon woke up, Killua knew what would have to happen. He would have to tell him the truth, the truth that he had first heard from the mouth of that heartless creature because of his inability to say it on his own. It would hurt him, Killua knew. It would kill him, just like it killed himself. But this time, he’d be there for him, as would Leorio, and Kurapika, and Bisky, and Melody, and _everyone._ And he’d apologize, for everything.

Then they would have to tell those poor junior hunters the truth as well. They would probably blame them for letting it happen. He would take the blame, as would Gon probably, knowing him. Telling him it wasn’t his fault would be hypocritical of him, as he felt the same way. They would carry that guilt for the rest of their lives, and wonder if their mentor could have lived if they hadn’t gone with him. And he would carry the additional guilt of everything else.

Killua knew he could never make up for letting the one Gon (and he, he could no longer deny) saw as a father die, and for letting him nearly die because of it. But he would do the little that he could do now. That was all he could do anymore.

_Gon… you have to live. No matter how much you may not want to, you_ have _to! Kite and I… we’re both counting on you to pull through, you hear me? I’m coming to save you… so you can’t give up before I get there!_

He stood up, staring at the mound of dirt one last time before leaving. He blinked his eyes rapidly, wanting to say at least one thing without crying.

“…I’m sorry, Kite. I’m so… _so_ sorry. We’ll miss you… always.”


End file.
